Policeman (energetically). Clear the place, please! Move on!
Lady. Nellie, go quick and tell your father he is falling.
Photographer (in despair). Oh my, I am out of films (tosses madly about, looking pitifully at the unknown man). One minute, I’ll go and get them. I have some in my overcoat pocket over there. (He walks a short distance, keeping his eyes fixed on the unknown man, and then returns.) I can’t, I am afraid I’ll miss it. Good heavens! They are over there in my overcoat. Just one minute, please. I’ll fetch them right away. What a fix.
Pastor. Hurry, my friend. Pull yourself together and try to hold out long enough to tell me at least your principal sins. You needn’t mention the lesser ones.
Tourist. What a tragedy?
Correspondent (writes). The criminal, that is, the unhappy man, makes a public confession and does penance. Terrible secrets revealed. He is a bank robber—blew up safes.
Tourist (credulously). The scoundrel.
Pastor (shouts). In the first place, have you killed? Secondly, have you stolen? Thirdly, have you committed adultery?
Tourist. Mary, Jimmie, Katie, Aleck, Charlie, close your ears.
Correspondent (writing). Tremendous excitement in the crowd.—Shouts of indignation.